


Oui/I do

by London_Fog



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London_Fog/pseuds/London_Fog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the final sprint towards the finish line that’s also the sweetest, because it’s closest to victory. Consider this the sequel to 'Near and Far'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oui/I do

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats to France and Britain on their recent voting in gay marriage! I think it’s a real milestone that they’ve gotten where they are, and while I could have written something else, I think this piece was a bit long overdue at the same time. Very quick piece, only briefly beta-ed

It took them a while before they could decide on where to hold the ceremony.

And of course, even before that, was enough paperwork and red tape to drown a man for fifty years. A few of the ministers had been insistent that a press conference ought to be in order – some others disagreed. And of course, not even all were in agreement about the marriage. The arguments that they had varied in reason. For some, the idea of France marrying England (an actual marriage, not some sort of political alliance) was unthinkable, even if they had been supporters of the gay marriage bill. And even those that had approved of the marriage believed that it ought to be a national event to be announced.

In the end, it took Arthur to tell both parties’ ministers to ‘ _shove it up their fucking arses and deal with it_ ’, because in that moment all France and England wanted to be were _Francis_ and _Arthur_.

They relented, thankfully, because they were arguably their own people (a sentiment that nearly opened up yet another can of worms, one that neither of them wanted to deal with at the moment, thank you very much), and dealing with their governments was really not unlike having to deal with two very huge, very obnoxious in-laws.

The final agreement that they could all consent to was a _small_ party among peers (that is, the other nations) and relevant persons (the other nations’ bosses, because like it or not, it was still a big thing), and so, as a result, it really wasn’t a small party at all.

The decision as to where it ought to be held nearly started another war. Each government naturally believed that their own country better, and the only result that could satisfy both sides was to hold the ceremony in Canada.

(There was almost yet another debate on where it ought to be in Quebec or Ontario, until Francis put his foot down and said that he really didn’t care where they got married, as long as they actually manage to get married some time this year, and they thus settled on a town in the outskirts of New Brunswick.)

The best wedding planners around the world (so they claim, but both sides had been dragging out the best planners from their own country, in all honesty) were roped in, invitations were sent out, and it was the very typical wedding preparations that were amplified to a much heavier scale that left the French President sobbing on ocassion and the British Prime Minister locking himself in a tea shop in despair.

The way time passes when one is busy is incredible, until the actual happy day itself. It was all finally going fairly smoothly, and congratulations were being passed around, and Francis and Arthur mingled around with their guests until the ringbearer, Alfred, whispered to Matthew that he lost their rings and Feliciano overheard and echoed his words, except ten times louder, which resulted in a huge scramble of cussing and swearing that did not cease until Ludwig emerged from the toilet demanding to know what the commotion was about, and then produced the two rings from his pocket (Alfred had handed it over to Ludwig for safe-keeping, and then forgotten that he had).

In the end, _the actual end_ , the room exploded with a loud, brilliant explosion of applause after they signed their names in bright, vivid blue ink and pressed their lips against the others’, and remained unspoken was the heaving sigh of relief at finally being married, after hundreds and hundreds of war, with their sweet enemy.

(What was said was just as important as what wasn’t, and while no one else had heard it, all that mattered was that the both of them did.

 

_Oui._

_I do._ )

 


End file.
